


Kimono

by Fenikkusu_Ai



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: F/M, First Love, Jealousy, Rescue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:42:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27705722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fenikkusu_Ai/pseuds/Fenikkusu_Ai
Summary: Naraku muses on what love is. Could he be taught what the word truly means? A displaced, half-demon girl will soon find out...
Relationships: Naraku/OC
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	1. Musing

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha.

* * *

Naraku stared out his palace window over the greenery of Japan, seemingly melting into the darkness around him. If one chanced to look up from below, they would have seen impenetrable velvet shadows beyond. Yet, as soon as they would turn their back, two crimson sparks would glow in the gloom when Naraku chose to open his eyes again. He smelled the delicious damp evening air. There was no moon, but the silver stars were still too bright for him. The dark empty pools of pure night between them were what interested him.

Oh, stars. Precious little things. Little jewels suspended in the air that even Inuyasha couldn't gather. They guided and fascinated people. Humans anyway. Lovers claimed they saw stars when they kissed. Utterly ridiculous. On the other hand, he knew nothing of love anyway. Only lust.

What was real love exactly? A chemical reaction? An emotional connection that tugs at the heart? Naraku did wonder about this. He knew humans literally died for it. They craved it for completion. What was real love exactly? A chemical reaction? An emotional connection that tugs at your heart? Naraku did wonder about this. He knew humans literally died for it. They craved it for completion. But really, how much of it was a simple hormonal response? The handsome gentleman married a beautiful maiden while the _oojisama_ married a female of royal blood. Were these foundations really built on this phenomenon of romance?

Could a woman ever love him? Considering they were stupid enough to try. Let's see. The infamous Kikyo hated Naraku with all her soul. Onigumo's fierce desire would have to go unfulfilled. No, he needed someone more…tangible. Let's see. The girl propelled centuries from the future, Kagome, clearly loved the mongrel, though he himself never returned her affections. An unrequited, one-sided romance it seemed. Kagome was the reincarnation of Kikyo herself. Except, Kagome behaved like the Kikyo from before. She bore no resemblance to the icy, bitter, wandering spirit Kikyo had become. Kagome was kind, gentle, and innocent. She laughed openly under the shady trees, the sun glinting off her dark, shiny locks. Her optimistic, sparkling brown eyes always fixed upon the sky. She acted akin to a _kodama_ ; connected to nature itself. As amusing as it would be to corrupt her virtuousness, Naraku decided to set his sights elsewhere.

What about Sango? Sango, the warrior that longed for Miroku, the monk. This relationship prospect too went unacknowledged. Her resentment was such a charming quality. She could easily be lured to darker forces if given the chance whilst being driven by her own despair. And, she was admittedly beautiful. Her swirling tresses would flow like a black waterfall around her delicate swan neck once released from its restrictive ponytail. It longed to feel the caresses of a man's fingers. Miroku's possibly. All Sango needed was love. All females wanted was love.

So, what accounted for this strange emotion? Yearning? Impossible hopes? Unfulfilled wishes? What good was it? Inuyasha couldn't bear to let himself get too close to Kagome, and Miroku, the flirtatious monk had apparently never heard of the term. What fools.

Naraku smirked, his pointed teeth flashing in the shadows; brighter than any star could be. _He_ wouldn't have rejected them. No. He would have invited them into his arms, leading them to his chambers where they would get to know each other better. In the morning, any woman would agree that he was the best they ever had. That was the essence of love, wasn't it? Mating? Sensuality? Lust and love. Was there any apparent difference between the two? After yearning for the girl and after consummating this fervorwhat else was there left to do? The fires were burned out, and one was left with cold ashes. Is that why Inuyasha and Miroku did not express their feelings? The chase was more rewarding than the eventual capture?

Naraku mused about this while heavy storm clouds drifted over the heavens and blotted out the stars. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Love. There had to be more to it than nights of frenzied passion. Yet, once these acts of pleasure had been performed, what remained? At dawn, the lady would stir, rub the sleep out of her eyes, and gaze questioningly at her lover from over the top of the embroidered silk bed sheet. What could he say? What should he say? What more did the woman implore?

Still, Naraku sensed there was more to it than simple sexual activity. If only someone was daring or foolish enough to show him what it is to love. But then he'd never understand it anyway.

* * *

A/N: I wrote this fic many years ago, but finally decided to post it here. 


	2. Escaping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mizoshi is discovered.

Mizoshi awoke on the lush grass where she had simply collapsed after the previous night's journey.

She had a home before the ruckus. She had lived with her mother and two younger brothers. They had lived a peaceful life, but with many dark secrets festering at the core. Her father, Jiro, was a half-demon. He had married their human mother, Kasumi. So, all three children had a percentage of demon blood in their veins. All three had altered bodily changes due to their parentage. Mizoshi's fifteen-year brother, Ken, had slightly longer and sharper nails that could be taken for as claws. Her twelve-year old brother, Nibori, had some unsightly fine white streaks through his hair that had to be covered by a cloth cap in public. As for Mizoshi herself, she possessed golden eyes that glittered akin to precious coins. The village was none the wiser when they moved there eight years ago because their father had died. Now, they had been discovered somehow.

So Mizoshi ran. She was the only one that got out of the village. If she returned…they might hurt her. Or kill her. She felt immense guilt about leaving her family to fend for themselves, but she had been closest to the door of the hut and her mother had urged her. She very well could be the last remaining member of her family.

Slowly, a tear inched down her cheek, but as quickly as it sprang free, she wiped it away with the sleeve of her simple aqua blue kimono. She could waste no time for tears. She was sure the scent of her tears would be carried on the predawn winds.

Mizoshi got up and began walking, choosing whichever direction she wished. It didn't really matter. She was lost, and any path in the forest could mean her doom. One small comfort was that the night was finally yielding to the rays of daylight breaking on the horizon. All was covered in a bluish early morning illumination. As far as Mizoshi knew, her oddly colored eyes had nothing to do with her vision. She sprinted as blindly as a human in the dimness.

She honestly didn't see the purpose behind it all. If she closed her eyes, the offending difference would be hidden from sight. Perhaps they were the blind ones; closing their eyes to the fact that she was human too. She was not violent. Nor was her family. They had simply wanted what any other wished for: to live.

Grunting, she forced herself to quicken her pace, even though it was beyond her capacity. Her stomach rumbled. Mizoshi needed food, or she would collapse again. Yet, she hadn't spotted a thing. No berries or fruit. No vegetables. No edible roots. There were just grass and maple leaves all around, and she very well couldn't hunt. Girls weren't taught such things. At this rate, she probably couldn't even manage the task of hauling wood for a cookfire. Mizoshi was strong mentally with a quiet grace about her, but physically, she was rather weak especially in her weakened condition.

She stumbled into a glade and discovered a clear, bubbling stream. Water! She hadn't had a drink in over a day's time. She fell on the natural wonder and started shoveling the substance with cupped palms into her parched mouth. The sweetness invigorated her, though there was still the problem of actual food.

Suddenly, the tranquility of the woods was broken by an angry shout and the clash of steel. There was a battle up ahead. Mizoshi automatically dropped to the dirt and drug herself behind a tree trunk. She prayed the two warriors would finish their duel so she could pass through to another settlement. Hopefully, there would be some other village nearby on this route, a place where people could help her. She'd work. She'd work hard as a servant or farmer for her rice. Her mother hadn't raised lazy, idle children. She wanted to help, and to be accepted, and…

Her thoughts were interrupted when two figures crashed out of the bushes. Two men were fighting each other: each with his own sword. Mizoshi forced herself to go limp and not make a sound, trying desperately not to be seen. Although, she couldn't stop herself from peeking out of the corner of her treacherous eyes to take in more of the scene around her. One of the men…no…. _demons_ were clearly getting the upper hand. The apparent victor was tall with a certain air of magnificence and majesty about him. His eyes were as golden as hers, but they were coupled with a sweeping mane of white hair that resembled frosty shafts of silver moonlight. Indeed, his clothing was white as well, making him appear to shimmer like some sort of grand celestial being. His silken garments were decorated with crimson blossoms around the collar with black leather armor wrapped around his middle tied in place with a yellow sash. Fuchsia lines decorated his handsome face, not to mention a deep violet crescent moon set in the middle of his forehead. He was a pure blooded demon. There was no denying that.

As for the second man, he was plainly a half-demon. Mizoshi watched this half- breed with intense fascination. He was like her. His waving black hair was tangled, and some of the ebony strands had fallen into his eyes. She could not tell what hue his eyes could be save that they were dark and filled with rage. His purple and jet robes billowed about him, as if driven by a supernatural wind. The gold ornaments on his kimono glinted faintly in the wan radiance that preceded the sunrise. He was losing. He didn't appear to be as strong as the demon in white. Mizoshi heard tales of these occurrences. Most likely, this conflict was part of the eternal war waged between demons and half-demons. For half-demons, neither the demons nor the humans accepted the person in question. She had found that out firsthand. The fray seemed to be a clash of wills, not a struggle betwixt good and evil.

With a finishing blow, the demon in white slammed the demon in black to the ground. The battle over, the demon in white sheathed his lethal sword. "Don't ever come back looking for me, or I might not let you go so easily next time." The man in white spoke these words calmly and coolly with hardly a trace of emotion. His luminous eyes scanned the area twice before he strode away. Mizoshi felt truly blessed she had not been discovered.

However, the man lying on the ground was not that fortunate. Mizoshi rushed over to the half-demon and gazed down at him. His skin was pale ivory and his eyes were closed. She wasn't sure if he was resting, unconscious, or dead. Yet, Mizoshi could see that he was startlingly handsome. The demon in white had been too cruel to classify as such. This wasn't her affair she knew. She should probably go her way and pretend she had witnessed nothing, but it was not in her habit to leave the wounded by the roadside.

She scampered to the stream and wet her long sleeve, wincing as the iciness soaked into the fabric and touched her skin. Quickly, she ran back to the half-demon. Next, she proceeded to dab at his face, attempting to bring him back to his senses. Still, Mizoshi had no warning when the man's hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. She gasped in surprise.

Slowly, the man opened his eyes. His blazing _red_ eyes. Mizoshi began to wonder if she had just made the biggest mistake of her life when lavender mist began to rise up around them…


	3. Guest of Honor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mizoshi acquaints herself with the castle.

The world spun fiercely around Mizoshi as her and the demon in black flew through the air. She was in some immense lavender cloud, spinning and twirling. She could see nothing except vague hazy shapes as she twisted and turned in the cyclone, but could feel the man holding her painfully tight. Still, she felt in no real danger. Mizoshi couldn't explain why. If this half demon wanted to kill her, he could have dropped her minutes ago. Eventually, she felt herself drifting downwards and the winds settling. Moments later, her feet touched the solid earth. _Both_ of their feet found traction again. The half demon's grip hadn't loosened. Not once.

Mizoshi couldn't help noticing the dark buildings in front of her astonished eyes. It was pitch dark. Completely so. No light emanated from within. There was no sign of even one single person in the connecting structures. Not one servant or gardener though it seemed to be a palace of sorts, or some other form of a grand residence. Mizoshi shivered in the coldness seeping from the abode. It had a disturbing aura. Overhead, the gray sky of heavy clouds above them rumbled, yet there was no sign or rain. Indeed, the very ground was parched with drought.

"Enjoying the view of my castle?" the half demon chuckled.

She turned and peered straight into his crimson orbs. "You live here?"

"Of course. What is your name…girl?"

"Mizoshi," she replied evenly.

He grinned; revealing lethal, pointed teeth. "I am Naraku."

"You're a half demon like me?" Mizoshi could contain the question no longer.

He growled as if the words offended him. That was the only way to describe the noise he created from his clenched lips. His eyes flared, and he appeared to be bristled enough to strike her, but chose to restrain himself. "For now," he spat out. He stared at her a few moments. "You're a half demon?"

"Yes, Naraku- _sama_."

The _hanyou_ appeared shocked that she had addressed him so. He looked longer at the young woman, starting at the top of her shoulder-length sable hair, to her slightly curvy body, and lower yet to her bare feet. "How old are you?" he questioned softly in a low, husky tone.

"I just turned seventeen during the early summer storms," she answered placidly. It was barely the beginning of autumn now. Three months had transpired since her birthday. Tears misted her vision, but she refused to let them free. It had been a happy day, although money was scarce. Nibori gave her a gently polished seashell he found on the sand, and her other brother Ken bestowed her with a carved wooden fish he whittled himself. It took him an entire month to create. She had strung it on a cord that hung around her wrist now. Her only possession from home.

Naraku grinned. "And you are unmarried?"

"Yes. I lived with my mother and siblings."

"Where are they now?"

Drawing herself up in an effort to erase her sudden nervousness, she told her tale. "We were discovered. The villages found out we were the children of a demon and accused my mother of collaborating with them. We were chased from our home. I alone escaped into the woods. My life was complicated enough without talk of marriage."

"Quite odd." He smirked. "Many girls your age already have a son or daughter on the way." Naraku, for whatever reason, chose not to comment on her family, however Mizoshi knew what he said was true. Some married as young as fourteen, or as soon as a female's first blood showed; proving she could provide an heir for husband. Mizoshi was ridiculed for this too. It wasn't by choice however. She was kept busy taking care of her ailing mother's home. With no adult male to be the head of the household, it not only wore on her mother, but made life increase in difficulty for all five family members. Also, no suitors had materialized for the occasion. Perhaps she would remain a spinster. Should she be allowed to live that is.

"About your parentage," he went on. "Was your mother or father a demon?"

"My father was a half demon. I'm mostly human," she explained matter-of-factly. "I see," he said dismissively. The conversation had ended. Pleasantries had been exchanged and they were left with silence, not to mention an unknown future. Mizoshi's own future may have been getting shorter by the second. His red eyes had hardened into rubies; giving the impression that they were glaring into her very soul. It was a predatory, calculating gaze.

_"So, what am I to do with you?"_

The sentence chilled Mizoshi's ear. He was violent. Wild. Malicious. Uncontrollable. He was a blaze, ready to burn down everything in his path, smoldering just below the surface. He could do what he pleased with her.

"First," he continued silkily, "tell me, girl. Why did you crouch down by my fallen form?"

"To help you," she confessed. "You were wounded. I wanted to clean your face and assist you in reawakening."

Those eyes glinted disbelievingly. "Why?" Naraku snorted. "Don't you know who I am?"

"Not until recently."

He was still staring at her with his head cocked to one side. Lost in thought.

"Are you to kill me, Naraku-sama?" Mizoshi inquired, anxiety tightening her voice.

"I'm considering…"

A bulge had grown in her throat.

"…which room to settle you in," he finished.

"You're keeping me here?"

"As a guest." The menacing red eyes narrowed. "Did you honestly think I would slay you?"

Truthfully, she hadn't known what to think. Was she to be his servant? His slave? Or as a guest of honor? "You are very kind, Naraku-sama."

Naraku laughed then; a harsh, bitter sound. "I honestly don't recall someone ever characterizing me that way. I am not kind, girl. Nor gentle. No, there's no point in ending your existence. You're alone in this world. None would miss you, and there's little reason to hold a ransom. Besides, you amuse me. You're the first woman who I met who wasn't cowed by my presence."

She wasn't sure if that was something to be proud of.

"Let us go inside where you can eat and bathe," he purred. "Shall we?"

Mizoshi was powerless to decline.


	4. Preparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mizoshi meets Kagura.

Ushering Mizoshi into the sliding screen doors of the darkened castle, he led her by the elbow in the shadowy interior. Once inside, Mizoshi gasped in fright when she saw a body slumped against the wall. White bleached bones peeked out of a sweeping cobalt and emerald kimono. A tiny hat was still on the former human being's skull.

"Don't worry. He died painlessly," Naraku assured her.

This was not the point.

"Kagura!" Naraku's voice boomed throughout the connecting rooms. "I require your assistance!"

Smoothly, a woman glided into the view with a sulking expression on her face. Oh. Was this his wife? A mistress? A daughter? All I could see that she was plainly a demon. She was young I could see, around my own age. Also, she was pretty, yet her aggressive demeanor lessened the effect. The woman's eyes were a startling red like her master's with a small scarlet painted mouth to match. She wore a lavender kimono with strips of burgundy crossing through the silk fabric. A gold sash was expertly tied around her waist in a complicated bow. Her ebony hair was tied up in formal bun except for her wispy bangs that were allowed to brush the corners of her eyebrows. The style was held in place by twin feathers threaded through her shining tendrils. Turquoise earrings dangled in her ears. And in her hand, she carried a pale pink fan. She was dressed as finely as any noblewoman.

"Yes, Naraku?" There was a loathing in her voice Mizoshi couldn't name.

"Take our guest to be bathed and dressed in a desirable shade, and bring her to my table. Know this, if any harm comes to her, your fate will become her own. I alone shall decide her immediate destiny, Kagura."

Kagura bowed her head. "It will be done." Her full lips arranged themselves into a soft, respectful smile; a smile that turned into a scowl as soon as he turned on his heel and walked in the opposite direction. Obviously, the woman cared not for Naraku.

"Come along, girl," Kagura growled, seizing her arm. "You have more trouble than if your face is dirty or which kimono to wear, I can promise that."

Following the hot-tempered young woman down the bending corridors, Mizoshi encountered more skeletons. She decided not to even ask about them. Some things were best left unknown. If only that could've been true for her dear family…

Kagura led her to a bathing room. The area was so alive with gloom; Mizoshi was hesitant about entering; yet Kagura pulled her along as if she were a stubborn horse. Even the rice paper walls could hardly be glimpsed in the inkiness. The woman in lavender led her to a wooden bathtub that was surprisingly already filled with steaming water.

"Strip," she ordered simply.

Mizoshi gazed down into the tub. The water was still and black. She could not see the bottom.

"Remove your clothing," Kagura repeated again slowly as if Mizoshi were a dull wit. "Do not be embarrassed. Your curves do not tempt me."

Reddening a bit from embarrassment all the same with the added worry of finding poisonous snakes curled at the bottom of the bathing tub, Mizoshi untied her rude, mud-splattered kimono and let it fall on the mat below. She scuttled into the tub quickly to situate herself. She watched as Kagura seized up a washcloth and a small ceramic bowl.

"Will I not wash myself?" she asked, silently admitting the water's temperature was perfect. It began to relax her in spite of everything.

"Naraku insisted I do it," Kagura hissed. "Don't worry, little one. I'm the least of your problems. We are both bound here now."

"Are you Naraku's wife?" The question couldn't be staunched.

"Does it really matter to you?" the woman in lavender inquired nastily. "I am his prisoner. That's all. You are too." Her voice was more abrasive than acid.

"What of your master? What does he intend to do with me?"

"Ask him yourself…what is your name, human?"

"Mizoshi, but I'm not a full human. My father was a half demon, and that is why I was driven from my village. Naraku found me."

"Your bad luck then. As for your heritage, I'd say the same. Since your father was only half, you only have a quarter of demon blood in your veins. Worse than most _hanyou_ , I'd imagine."

Marveling at Kagura's bluntness that masked a hidden perpetual rage, Mizoshi let her move the bathing cloth across her back. A scent she couldn't identify tinged the air, emanating from the mysterious ceramic bowl. The soapy green substance was smeared on her skin, chilling it at first before surrendering to the heat of the bath. It appeared to have the consistency of seaweed. Tears brimmed her eyes when she was reminded of her village that had bordered the seashore.

Continuing the conversation, Mizoshi dared to ask another question. "Does anyone else live here with you?"

"My _sister_ , Kanna. Of course, I'm not counting the vast demon hoards at Naraku's disposal."

This shocked her. "Demons?"

"Oh yes. Naraku is one of the greatest powers in the land. Unfortunately. Here, dip your head under the water."

Reluctantly, Mizoshi did so. When she surfaced, Kagura began washing her hair vigorously with her perfectly shaped cuticles. She chose to remain silent until her hair was rinsed. "Naraku is powerful?"

Kagura snorted. "You know so little, Mizoshi. Yes, he is. Furthermore, he is by far the cruelest man that ever lived. He is pure evil, and I hate sharing my life with him."

Again, she was so brutally honest. Standing currently, she presented Mizoshi with a towel. "Get out and dry yourself. Treasure now what precious distance you have away from _him_.

Without comment, Mizoshi stepped out of the wooden tub whereupon Kagura literally threw the brown towel at her. It was big enough to wrap around her body twice. Impatiently, her "bathing attendant" led her to another chamber with a high bench in the center.

"Sit," Kagura demanded, treating her like some breed of dog. Half-heartedly, Mizoshi obeyed. While her hair dried, the woman in lavender searched in some drawers and cabinets; gathering an item or two here and there. Wonderingly, Mizoshi touched her skin, awed by how soft it was. She was sure she was clean, and that an entire layer had been sloughed in the process. _A layer of herself._

Kagura went on to her style her slightly damp hair. Mizoshi knew she would not asked for her opinion. The demoness swept her fine-stranded mane back and began shaping. The result was a low knot at the base of her neck. Braids connected to the sides of her temples. Her bangs had disappeared into the coif itself.

Lightly, she laid something across Mizoshi's lap. "Try that on. It should fit. You can't meet your new master looking like an urchin."

Wordlessly, Mizoshi got up and shed her towel while Kagura happened to have her back turned and tied the crimson kimono around her waist. Red. Could it be any other hue?

Her attendant regarded the disdainful expression on her face. "You don't like it?" Kagura huffed.

"Red is not my favorite. That's all," Mizoshi whispered. She was reminded of blood. And fire. And death. And destruction. She had abhorred the color ever since she witnessed a man striking her mother and calling her a "demon's whore." A stream of blood had exited the poor woman's lips. Yet, this happened many years before. But the memory was still emblazoned in her brain.

"Well, you'll wear it. Naraku dictated that I was to dress you in a desirable shade, and in his mind, red _is_ a desirable shade. 'It intensifies a woman's beauty,' or so he says. From now on, it shall be your duty to keep him happy."

Digesting this in silence, Mizoshi held her breath while Kagura slid something into the coils of her hair. The finishing touch. "There. Have a look at yourself." She thrust a mirror into Mizoshi's hand. Curiously, she gazed into the glass. She appeared as proper and sophisticated as any in the Emperor's court. Her beauty certainly was intensified, more so than she would have chosen. She could barely make out this "urchin" she was previously. The unaccustomed crimson blossom of silk riding her tresses proved this.

"Would you like your lips painted?"

She swallowed. "No thank you."

"No? Oh, well. I suppose it doesn't matter. The gloss would be smeared away in any case."

Not wanting to figure out the implications _why_ the cosmetic might be smeared from her lips, Mizoshi got up from the bench and peeked downwards so she could take in her new clothes. She noticed there was a deep border of sable surrounding the hem of the shimmering red garment and that the neckline was lower than she would prefer.

Immediately, Kagura was pulling at her arm again. "Come. Breakfast will be served soon, and you will be taking it with Naraku."

Underneath the selected crimson kimono she felt quite uncomfortable wearing, Mizoshi prayed Kagura did not detect her legs trembling. Why did it seem as if she were a present that had been wrapped according to Naraku's tastes? Would he dare open it?


End file.
